Isaiah 48:22
by battle scars
Summary: “There is no peace,” says the Lord, “For the wicked.” The missing scenes in S4 starting at Ep. 4.07. The storyline alternates from Sam/Dean/Castiel point of view. Canon story with oodles of angst but no slash. Chapter 7 now finished!
1. Ch 1: Escape Artists Never Die

**Isaiah 48:22**

**Disclaimer: Supernatural is owned by Kripke and I imagine some suits down at The CW. All the copyrights associated with Supernatural belong to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.**

**A/N Set during Episode 4.07 It's The Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester. My first fanfic :) This is the part where I say I love reviews, blah blah blah. You know the drill. Thank you so much to my Betas: LoupGarouAngel and RhiannonNymph. Your encouragement and editing skills are wholly appreciated. **

**Synopsis: **"There is no peace," says the Lord, "For the wicked." Uriel and Sam both seem to share the view that the Apocalypse should be stopped at all costs, however they have different ideas on how to do. Dean thinks the price is too high and Castiel seems inclined to agree. The missing scenes in S4 starting at Ep. 4.07. The storyline alternates from Sam/Dean/Castiel point of view. Guest stars include Uriel & Ruby so far. Canon story with oodles of angst but no slash.

**Chapter 1: Escape Artists Never Die**

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"**There is no peace," says the Lord, "For the wicked."**

**Isaiah 48:22**

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"Is this necessary?" Castiel inquired.

"I am watching… for educational purposes brother," Uriel replied.

Castiel frowned, "How long have we been stationed together? Give me a little credit and satisfaction. It is disturbing to see you clearly enjoying this. A tad unbecoming for a warrior of the Lord."

"Well look at you…" A chuckle escaped from Uriel's lips as he looked at Castiel in amusement. "You used to find such childish human behavior amusing as well." He tilted his head and stated, "How did you ever pass the time before becoming a 'guardian angel' to the great Dean Winchester? You resurrected an assignment. A willful, disobedient, crass mud monkey if we want to be technical."

Uriel added, "Such insolence… Oh I love this one! We must track down this… Trickster… I want to shake his hand." Castiel shook his head as Uriel laughed. Had they been on Earth the ground would have quaked from the intensity of the angel's laughter. "Despite his best intentions, the boy with the demon blood actually takes an axe to his own beloved brother's head! In an effort to save him! From dying! Again!" Uriel looked incredulous while narrating the scene before them and the ground appeared to quake from the intensity of the angel's laughter. "This is simply too much."

Castiel's voice grated with frustration. "These memories were not made available to us so that you could realize these perverse obsessions of watching Dean Winchester die. Some might even call you heartless."

Castiel's face softened as his gaze turned upon Sam who was now crumpled next to a bloody and listless Dean. Had Castiel been capable of crying, he was quite certain tears would flow freely down his face. After an eternity of observing Earth, the ability to comprehend such intense sorrow still eluded him, but he felt like he was beginning to get the idea. This wasn't the first occasion he had been privy to witness the atrocities committed on the undeserving, but listening to Sam's screams made him feel as if he was truly seeing hell on Earth. Lord knows, he cannot think of a more appropriate expression.

What Uriel found amusement in, Castiel found wonder, even in the face of this intractable agony, Sam somehow managed to summon the strength to continue. Even though with every Tuesday that passed (or rather, didn't come to pass), it becomes more and more likely that the cycle would continue unhindered, without so much as the possibility of a momentary respite. Castiel admired the grit and the fortitude that occupied the young man's soul. To cope with such horrendous events and to do so while lacking the wisdom and insight that came naturally to angel. Uriel called the mud monkeys, said repeatedly he didn't understand their Father's creation of them. Castiel felt that at this moment he was able to see his Father's human children as the wondrous works of art he intended them to be.

Castiel leaned forward with his arm outstretched in an effort to comfort Sam… to absolve him of his guilt… but the illusion began to flicker culminating in a flash of white light. He was almost startled when the gut-wrenching sobs of the youngest Winchester abruptly ended, but quickly regained his composure. The ramshackle walls of the Broward County Mystery Spot gave way to a glorious night sky carefully suspended above lush country meadow. With nothing to interrupt the men, save for the quiet breeze of solitude, Castiel decided that it was as good of time as any to address Uriel's disdain.

He eagerly eyed his brother in arms, his ally in a holy war to bring on the apocalypse. "What of compassion and understanding? At the very least, we must treat our Father's mission with the respect required by our station?"

"Some might say… Castiel....That you allow these _feelings_," Uriel spit out the word as if it was riddled with disease. "Rule your judgment… cloud that sharp mind of yours. Keep you from following orders." He paused, momentarily intrigued by a comet streaking across the sky. "Of course, I tell these fools that I know you better… And know, that no matter what, you will do your sworn duty to serve our Father."

Uriel made no attempt to disguise the tone of his voice. He was only half-heartedly trying to hide the malicious grin that threatened to spread across his face. Castiel turned away, looking at the mountains across the horizon. He couldn't help but find comfort in the majestic beauty that naturally enveloped the Earth. When he drew Dean Winchester's ticket, it was just another day at the office so to speak. Granted, it was his first trip to the nine circles of Hell and there was that _chance_ of him not making it back…

Castiel trailed off, unable to complete his thought. There was something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Everything was changing, becoming more complicated which was a word that had never graced his vocabulary before this moment. He felt like he had deceived Dean. Moreover, he was equally surprised that he cared what Dean thought about the matter. At the very least, Dean believed Castiel approved of the town's destruction. Castiel assured himself that when Uriel left, he would seek Dean out to explain himself. Shifting his glance to the sky, he lightly smiled towards the Heavens, silently thanking the Lord for answering his prayers.

"I think I'll go seek revelations while you make nice with your ward, though I really do not understand why you should. Because of him, we are now seal closer to the apocalypse." Uriel shook his head with fervor. "To Lucifer's rising Castiel! I reiterate this simply because I am curious to know what you accomplished here today that makes you look so smug!" Uriel bellowed.

Castiel paused, taking the moment to consider the best course of action. "I understand the enormity his actions completely brother. What is done is done. The events that came to pass are sorrowful indeed. But I have faith in our Father and I truly believe that we are part of a bigger plan here."

But when Castiel turned around to face his fellow warrior, he found himself alone in the wilderness.


	2. Ch 2: Back Against The Wall

**Isaiah 48:22**

**Disclaimer: Supernatural is owned by Kripke and I imagine some suits down at The CW. All the copyrights associated with Supernatural belong to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.**

**A/N Set during Episode 4.07 It's The Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester. My first fanfic :) This is the part where I say I love reviews, blah blah blah. You know the drill. **

**Thank you so much to my Betas: ..x. ****and Shella Winchester. Your encouragement and editing skills are wholly appreciated. **

**Ch. 2 Back Against The Wall**

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**I am in the midst of lions;**

**I lie among ravenous beasts--**

**Men whose teeth are spears and arrows,**

**Whose tongues are sharp swords.**

**Psalm 57:4**

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Dean was fairly certain that he understood the concept of sin. A laundry list of dirty deeds he had committed throughout the course of his life came to mind with little to no effort. But considering what had transpired during the past three days, he was firmly convinced that up to this point his worst offense was neglecting to appreciate the glorious sound of children's laughter. All Dean could do was smile. However if he genuinely thought about what happened, he knew there was little cause for cheer.

Sammy, _his_ Sammy, used supernatural powers _brought on by freakin' demon blood_ to exorcise Samhain, a demon whose talents rivaled Lilith's and killed time with a roving death squad of zombies. To make matters worse, he did this regardless that the angels explicitly forbade him to do so. Seriously. What part of this story called for any type of celebration, huh? Even worse than that, Dean was solely responsible for the breaking of a seal… for defying an order handed down by God.

The resulting consequences were more severe than Dean could possibly imagine handling. He's damn sure that he can check off gaining admission into heaven as a pipe dream. Up was down, day was night; everything seemed to be in perpetual motion, like a runaway train. Or a really bad acid trip. Big, evil and horrendous things were afoot and all of these changes were piling up at rapid pace, Dean couldn't keep track of what terrified him most. And yet, all Dean could do was smile.

Even though he didn't witness the angel's entrance, he was acutely aware of Castiel's sudden presence beside him. Dean gave his best effort to fortify his feelings, or rather, do as best as he could on such short notice.

Dean thought to himself --_Tell him you're pissed off! He'll go to hell itself to pluck you from a literal pit of despair, even after everything you did! But these good people? Screw 'em. Wipe the town off the map. Go ahead and kill_ _1,214 individuals. My mother wanted a guardian angel to look over me, not a serial killer!--_

However, in the end, he settled for his usual routine of curt retorts coupled with a stony demeanor. All that was missing was a neon sign that said 'I'm allergic to feelings.'

"Let me guess," Dean said, turning to look at the angel, just barely masking the resignition and defeat in his voice with his usual offhand tone. "You're here for the I-told-you-so."

*****

_Please God._

_I've never been so terrified before in my life. _

_I need your help._

Sam had never been so afraid in his life, and unfortunately, it was not due to lack of options. There was a entire childhood full of close-calls and deadly misadventures to pick from followed by the waking nightmare of adolescence and young adulthood. Especially after what happened with Jessica, he truly believed that nothing could make him feel this scared again, but leave it to his recent encounter with Uriel proved him wrong.

He couldn't help, but think that all those years of prayer and devotion were futile. An angel of the Lord actually appeared to him and his purpose was to threaten to waste him. This was not the first spiritual crisis Sam had faced, but the angel had fractured his belief beyond repair. As if things weren't bad enough, his parting gift added an entire new level of pain. Had Dean been lying to him about remembering Hell? Uriel may have been a dick, but he hadn't shown himself to be a liar.

The more he mulled over the likelihood that Dean's memory remained intact, the more concrete his conclusion became. Sam was well aware of Dean's stupid 'I-have-to-deal-with-this-myself' attitude and was shocked that he didn't figure it out sooner. His eyes fluttered shut as he sank to the motel floor. His fists clenched and unclenched, his knuckles turning white. Gasping for air, he thought -- _Of course Dean wouldn't want to talk about it… of course he'd lie about it... It's Dean.--_

It's interesting what people think of when they're absolutely scared stiff. With thoughts swirling in his head, he began to reminisce about his time at Stanford. For their second date, Sam had arranged to take Jessica out for dinner and a movie which seemed like such a typical evening; a perfect compliment to the start of a normal life. But the dinner portion of the evening actually went so well that they didn't make it to the theater in time to see the film they originally planned on. So, instead of some inane romantic comedy where the guy gets the girl and the happily-ever-after, they saw some slasher zombie flick. Not that Sam was complaining, mind; Jess spent the rest of the evening clutching Sam's arm to her chest and burying her face in his shoulder.

Later on, after they became a serious item, Jess would tell their friends that Sam must have known that horror movies were her fatal flaw and tried to scare her into hooking up with him. Then Sam would tease her that she didn't even know what the movie was about because she kept her eyes shut the entire time. Jess would proceed to explain that she watched the first five minutes and stated, "I've never been so terrified before in my life." The parties on the receiving end of the tale would laugh good-naturedly leaving Sam to quip about Jess's low tolerance to C-list actors, but ultimately, it was alright because Sam got the girl. For a little while, in any case.

And all Sam could do was sulk. Waves of sorrow and misery crashed into him, each one bringing more pain than the previous one before. Anger fueled the undercurrent, slow and steady in the beginning, but progressively building to a raging tsunami.

Needing to find a way to take control of his rage before it drove him insane, Sam sighed and looked up at the sloppily painted ceiling. He folded his hands and rested his forehead against his fingers. It was a daily ritual, one he'd been doing for the past twenty five and a half years. Of course, it was only recently that he's found out that there was actually someone in the receiving end.

"Why us?" Sam asked, making a face for his invisible audience. "I mean, I get it. I didn't do anything; I'm not really to blame. Thanks for that missing puzzle piece. It was decided long before I was born that my life was destined to be suspended in endless torment. Alright, fine. Everyone and everything I touch dies. No, dying would be a blessing. What happens to them... It's so much worse. They're tortured. I mean, they lose their god damned SOULS!" Sam rubbed his faced tiredly. "And then, by some divine intervention, they come back to me...Only he gets to relive his adventures in the pit in this hellhole called Earth, just so he can prepare himself to go back downstairs! I can't even believe that I used to think you could only die once!"

Sam stopped his rant, massaging his pounding temples as he tried to calm down. Screaming at God just before the apocalypse was probably not the brightest thing to do. When he was slightly calmer, he spoke again. "So, tell me. What am I supposed to do? Please. Just...just tell me... What am I supposed to do?"

It wasn't until Dean got back that he realized how badly he was shaking. As if life wasn't hard enough, he found out he had to somehow explain to Dean why every piece of furniture in the room had moved three feet away from the wall, toward the center. He also realized with a pang that, with anyone else, anyone _but Dean_, he could've told the truth:

He moved it with his mind.

*****

Castiel watched Dean for a moment before asking, "Can I tell you something, if you promise not to tell another soul?"

"Okay," Dean carefully responded.

"I'm not a…hammer, as you say. I have questions, I have doubts. I don't know what is right and what is wrong anymore – whether you passed or failed here. But in the coming months, you will have more decisions to make. I don't envy the weight that's on your shoulders, Dean. I truly don't."

With that said he stood up and left Dean alone to watch the kids play on the jungle gym in peace.

Or at least he let Dean think he was alone, for Castiel was never far from his charge. He wondered if he made the right decision to confide in Dean and sent a silent prayer of thanks to his heavenly Father that his superiors did not expressively forbid Castiel from informing Dean that the angels' true mission was to follow Dean's orders. With all his heart, he did not want to disobey, but he was quite confident that he would have to explain to Dean the so-called method to his madness, consequences be damned. Castiel couldn't recollect the last time something had been so important to him although he had a sneaking suspicion that nothing had _ever_ been important to him before.

The absolute worst part was admitting that he had doubts. Not because of the penalties he might have to face from above, but because it was probably the last thing Dean needed to hear. The apocalypse is coming and the angels, the so-called good guys… well, they're not sure if what they are pursuing the right course of action or even if what they are doing is any good at all. It wasn't that difficult to see why the eldest Winchester boy had serious issues with his faith.

Half an hour passed before Dean collected himself and returned to the motel. The angel assumed his place on the park bench to continue watching where the young man had left. Ten minutes or so passed unremarkably when heard the sound of soft whimpering. He jerked his head around, looking curiously out at the playground, but found the children still running as carefree before. Finally he endeavored to look beneath the bench, finding a small dog heartily chewing on his shoe. Cupping the puppy into his hands, he lifted the animal into his lap. The living bundle of fur was content to forget all about Castiel's shoe and decided that his hand was a suitable replacement.

"Chimney! There you are!" A young girl around the age of six came rushing over, arms outstretched. She picked up the being, hugging it tightly to her chest. "You're supposed to stay with me Chimmy. Bad puppy." The child tilted her head up Castiel, her long brown ringlets lightly swaying in the breeze. "I think he likes you," she smiled shyly before running back to her mother with the dog in tow.

Castiel stared after her, impressed by the natural innocence of children. The whole town was completely oblivious to how close they had come to biting the big one. Every single child in this park would have been turned to dust, obliterated off the face of the Earth. The cracks in Castiel's faith were growing wider, becoming more pronounced. He couldn't imagine that his Father actually intended to destroy these people. With his mind full of reservation, he reflected upon what Dean had said.

"So I failed your test, huh? I get it. But you know what? If you'd have waved that magic, time-travel wand of yours, and we had to do it all over again, I'd make the same call. See I don't know what's going to happen when these seals are broken, hell I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow. But what I do know is that this, here, these kids, the swings, the trees – is still here because of my brother and me."

And all Castiel could do was hope.


	3. Ch 3: They're Only Chasing Safety

**Disclaimer: Supernatural is owned by Kripke and I imagine some suits down at The CW. All the copyrights associated with Supernatural belong to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.**

**A/N: Takes place after Episode 4.08 Wishful Thinking, but before Episode 4.09 I Know What You Did Last Summer.**

**A/N2: My first fanfic :) This is the part where I say I love reviews, blah blah blah. You know the drill. Thank you so much to my Betas: Alli Elaine, Live Journal's "TheVinegarWorks" Your encouragement and editing skills are wholly appreciated. **

**Chapter 3: They're Only Chasing Safety**

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**He will cover you with his feathers, **

**And under his wings you will find refuge.**

**Psalm 91:4**

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**Skagit County, Washington**

When they were younger, there was nothing Dean couldn't handle. Since Sam was four years old, Dean was his hero. Not because his big brother was the patron saint of victims afflicted by the supernatural, but because he was the finder of lost socks, master of fraction flashcards and an expert at the cereal-to-milk ratio. Growing up did little to sway Sam's adoration. Dean helped him be normal or as normal as any Winchester son was going to get a shot at.

After he landed the lead role of George Gibbs his freshman year of high school, John didn't talk to him for a week. His father saw it as a distraction from hunting, another prime example of Sam's lack of focus. Instead of attending opening night and waiting for his son backstage, John Winchester was in Plattsburgh, New York, working a job.

But Dean was there. He had spent the last six weeks coaching Sammy on his lines. Sitting third row dead center in their Dad's timeworn leather jacket, Dean looked out of place next to the other students' parents. After the show, Sam beamed with pride when Dean said it was the best play that he had ever seen even though it was the _only_ play he had ever seen.

That was the past though and they were stuck swimming through the present, although currently Sam felt like they were drowning. They were running on empty, pretending like they knew their way home, a way back to before. He fumbled with his cell phone, hashing over the idea of calling Ruby to see if she found any news on the Lilith front. Spending time with Ruby was a double-edged sword. On one hand, she held a wealth of information during a time when educated allies were scarce. On the other hand, seeing her was like being stabbed in the gut seventeen times.

It was nearly midnight when Sam decided to set out on a search party for Dean. Luck was in his corner thanks to the lack of liquor stores in town. He didn't think it would take too long to track Dean down, but this present situation was wearing him down fast. Nevertheless, Sam slid behind the steering column of the Impala, making a point to turn off the music. Everything was different. While Sam knew how they ended up in this predicament, he still couldn't fathom that he was driving out to find Dean like an irritated father picking up his drunken son from a high school kegger. As the Impala roared to life, Sam thought --_This is my entire fault. Just let him be alright.--_

*****

Union, Kentucky

The altar inside St. Timothy Parish had all of the accoutrements of a typical Catholic church. It was made entirely from Tennessee Marble from Knox County to illustrate the concept that Christ was the cornerstone of the Church. This particular church was only built in the past century and lacked the necessary bones to practice the customary tradition of placing the relics of saints and martyrs beneath the fixed stone. The residents of Union, Kentucky would have to visit a different church if they wanted that privilege. Castiel paused in the aisle to admire the exquisite stained glass window over the pulpit.

"The Annunciation to the Shepherds – the angels proclaimed the birth of the infant Jesus Christ to those who were the recipients of his promises. They were not Kings or educated state men, but lowly shepherds keeping watch over their flocks in the dead of night. Sounds like a story you would enjoy," Uriel remarked acridly from the back of the chapel.

"An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them: Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. Luke 2:9," Castiel murmured. The star of Bethlehem gleamed with etched glass. Although the Bible was regarded as a man-made convention by the heavenly host, Castiel still marveled at the intensity and the magnificence of its language.

Uriel walked down the aisle, taking a seat in a pew to the left of Castiel. "They fell to their knees, trembling with fear. These mud-monkeys completely lack courage, bravery, loyalty. Our kind never should have had anything to do with these inferior beings," Uriel grumbled. He picked up a Bible left on the bench and flipped through it aimlessly.

Refusing to acknowledge the bitter tone in Uriel's voice, Castiel continued his recitation. "Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying: Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth, peace to men on whom his favor rests."

Castiel peered over his shoulder at Uriel who was doing little to hide the feelings of discontent running rampant across his face. He remembered that moment distinctly. Every member of the host was invited to attend, even fledgling angels such as him. This was supposed to be a day of celebration, a day to remember for the ages. Man finally had a champion and a savior. No longer would they have to wander the literal and metaphorical deserts of Earth alone.

"And since that night, we have been playing second fiddle to these walking toilets on two legs," Uriel complained.

Castiel shot him a glance, "This is blasphemy. Watch what you say."

Uriel put the Bible down and leaned back to look at Castiel. "What happened to you? When did you become the defender for mankind? I expected more from you."

Castiel threw up his hands in frustration. Gritting his teeth, he said, "Can we please get back to the matter at hand. Were you able to locate the grace?"

Uriel stood up and reached inside his shirt to reveal a necklace. It glowed with the essence of energy, emitting a bright light inside the otherwise dark church. "I found it just a little ways away from here; touched down in the form of an oak tree. We simply can't take the chance that she remembers who she is and goes looking for _this_. I have received revelations from our superiors. They want us to go collect her."

Castiel heaved a sigh and ran his hand through his hair. "Where is she?"

"Not far from here. The Connor Beverley Behavioral Medicine Center in Ohio. Whatever that means. Humans constantly rename this entire creation, I can't keep track. I am worried about you however. You know our orders are to kill her. Is this going to be a problem for you, Castiel?" Uriel asked.

Castiel wanted to wipe that smirk off of Uriel's face, but thought better of it. "I am capable of doing my job, brother. She is… far from innocent. All the sentiment in the world cannot change that," Castiel replied. He tried to sound confident, but inwardly, he wasn't so sure. This young woman, this Anna, remembered nothing of her former life as an angel. She didn't know that she had disobeyed and fallen to Earth, but now that she was tapping into angel radio, she was a liability they couldn't afford to take. "We will go and find Anna. She has to die."

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**A/N: I'm not sure when the next update will be... soonish. Like at least within the next two weeks. Kinda not sure where to go. Suggestions are welcome :) Uh... Thanks for stopping by?  
**


	4. Ch 4: The Devil And God Raging Inside Me

**Isaiah 48:22**

**Disclaimer: Supernatural is owned by Kripke and I imagine some suits down at The CW. All the copyrights associated with Supernatural belong to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.**

**A/N Set during between Episode 4.10 Heaven And Hell and Episode 4.11 Family Remains. My first fanfic :) This is the part where I say I love reviews, blah blah blah. Special thanks to my beta xImaginex. I couldn't do it without you!**

**Chapter 4: The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me**

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**Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, "Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?"**

**Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times."**

**Matthew 18:21-22**

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**En Route via U.S. Route 83 **

**Central Nebraska**

Sam absolutely hated driving through Nebraska.

Even worse, Nebraska in _November_.

There was nothing that great about the Great Plains. Sam would have killed for some endless fields of corn, but- believe it or not -corn wasn't the main crop in the High Plains.

His view from the Impala was filled with a continuous landscape of short-grass prairie and shrub vegetation occasionally interrupted by dormant wheat fields or deserted cattle lands. The area was known for its steady winds prevailing from the west that caused insane temperature swings, sometimes with a difference of 50 degrees between the day temperature and the night.

Sam realized that beating up on Nebraska was really like bashing his own home state which made him wonder what it might have been like if he had a normal childhood back in Lawrence; he couldn't help but think that he may have dodged a bullet with this one.

"So where are we headed?" Sam asked absentmindedly.

"Emery County, Utah. 12 miles northwest from the magnificent city of Orangeville," Dean quipped.

Sam shifted his gaze toward Dean, furrowing his eyebrows. "And, uh… why are we headed there?"

Dean paused for a moment before answering, "We're working a case Sam. Ya know, our job? Hunting… it's what we do when we're not killing time parasailing with movie stars or rocking the vote."

"You gotta wake up pretty bright and early to be that bitchy, Dean," Sam replied. "I know we're working a case. That's the problem. We're always working a case! It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since we iced that ghost back in South Dakota, a case which just _conveniently_ appeared after the whole Angel-Demon-Anna debacle."

"Just on a roll I guess. I'm going for a new record, trying to bowl a perfect score, Sammy. So the Wilberg Mine…"

Sam cut Dean off before he could change the subject. "Dean, how long are we going to do this dance? Cause if you wanna dance, I'll take you two-stepping. Dress and all if that's what floats your boat. But I'm tired of you avoiding the subject. You know, you can only run so long before there's no where left to go and we're right back here having this damn conversation," Sam insisted angrily.

He sighed and took a moment to regroup. In a gentler tone, he added, "I'm worried Dean. Give me a little credit, I'm not easily rattled. You're exhausted and you can't use hunting as an outlet forever."

Dean steered the Impala to the side of the road and turned off the ignition. He leaned back, running his hands over his face. "I know, Sam. Give me some credit. I'm not blind, deaf, or dumb. Not yet anyway. Just… humour me for a little longer, please? I spent forty _years_ in hell and I'm topside, what… barely three _months_ now? We'll talk, but it will be when I'm ready, not when you are. Alright? So can we just talk about this case?"

"Enlighten me, Dean," Sam muttered under his breath.

"So back in 1984, there was this coal mine, the Wilberg Mine. 27 people were killed when a fire started most likely due to a faulty air compressor. That part isn't important. What is noteworthy is that they were only able to recover twenty-seven bodies, not twenty-eight. Cary Jennings, age 36, went to work that morning and never made it home. Presumed dead, like the rest of his crew and he was the only guy unaccounted for. After the fire, they sealed off all the mine portals that lead to the 5th Right long wall which is where everyone bit the big one. Three months ago, they reopened the passage when UP&L took over the company and now we have four dead guys," Dean explained. He reached into the back seat and handed a file over to Sam. "Here, take a look at these news articles."

Sam flipped through the news clippings, scanning the words for anything out of the ordinary. "And you think that this guy's ghost got out when they unsealed the mine shaft?"

"Hell yes, that's what I'm thinking. Reports of cold sports, flickering lights and get this: I called the local Medical Examiner. Turns out they're keeping one major clue out of the papers; all the bodies were covered with 4th degree burns. What's even weirder is that the burns were inflicted post-mortem with no evidence of a fire anywhere in the mine. A little strange, right? It just sorta sounded like our kinda gig. But hey, what do I know? I've only been doing this job my entire life," Dean spat out. He glared at Sam for a moment before he returned to staring out the window.

The Impala breezed past the first rest stop sign they had seen in over sixty miles. Sam wasn't exactly sure what the hell the Tumbleweed Palace was, but he hoped to God it was a hotel complete with a functioning radiator. Suddenly, his pocket was vibrating and his hand fumbled to discreetly open his phone without Dean seeing. The screen read one new message from Ruby:

"_Did you find a place for the night yet? Twenty-one seals have already broken. Get your ass in gear. Lilith? The Apocalypse? Time's wasting Sam. 1am – Tommy B's Diner."_

Leaning his face against the glass, Sam thought that if the world went to hell in a hand basket tomorrow, Lilith might be doing everyone a favor by wiping the great state of Nebraska off the map forever.


	5. Ch 5: The Sufferer And The Witness

**Isaiah 48:22**

**Disclaimer: Supernatural is owned by Kripke and I imagine some suits down at The CW. All the copyrights associated with Supernatural belong to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.**

**A/N: Takes place directly after Chapter 4, during between Episode 4.10 Heaven And Hell and Episode 4.11 Family Remains. My first fanfic :) This is the part where I say I love reviews, blah blah blah. Special thanks to my beta John Bonham. **

**Chapter 5: The Sufferer and The Witness**

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**I saw that wisdom is better than folly; **

**Just as light is better than darkness. **

**The wise man has eyes in his head **

**While the fool walks in the darkness; **

**But I came to realize that the same fate overtakes them both.**

**Ecclesiastes 2:13-14**

**---------------------------------**

**Where then does wisdom come from? **

**Where does understanding dwell?**

**Job 28:20**

**---------------------------------**

**The Tumbleweed Palace Hotel – 1:00am **

**15 Miles Southwest of North Platte, Nebraska**

Sam's hiding something. "_And if he thinks I won't catch on, he's got another thing coming," _Dean thought grimly.

He waited until he heard the Mustang peel out of the motel parking lot before getting out of bed. Nothing pissed Dean off like the sound of that Hell-bitch grinding gears. "_You're gonna seize the engine Devil-spawn," _he mused idly._ "Leave it to a demon to pick a car that was all flash and non pep."_

He felt bad for the poor sonuvabitch who probably died at Ruby's hands so she could swipe his ride. To the outside world, a.k.a. Sam, it looked like Dean was starting to tolerate Ruby, but it was merely a ruse designed to keep the peace. He wondered what his Dad would say if he knew that little Sammy was banging a demon. Just the thought of the two of them, rolling around naked in bed… "_Ugh_," Dean visibly grimaced. "_I could have lived a lifetime without that unnecessary image burned into my memory."_

Dean sat on the edge of the bed trying to figure out when his own brother became the biggest liar he knew. He buried his face in his hands yearning for guidance. Inwardly, he thought, "_Dad, I know there were times before when I needed you here, but this is different. I need your help, bad. Despite all your flaws, you always knew exactly what to do during an emergency and my god, this is a catastrophe. I'm sorry. I'm just… so sorry, Dad. I failed you and now Sammy's paying the price. I don't…. I just can't…," _Dean's thoughts trailed off. His mind was trapped in a haze of confusion and Dean was at a loss on how to sort it out._ "Help." _

All of a sudden, there was faint sound of rustling wings and hebristled at the rapid gust of wind against the back of his neck.

"Do you guys have birthdays or whatever the angel equivalent is? Nah, birthday or not, I'll get you a gift anyway. I'm feeling one of those studded S&M collars, complete with a little bell. Keep you from sneaking up on me, plus maybe it'll get you some ass," Dean smirked.

The angel on the other side of the bed did not look amused. "How long are you going to pretend that you don't know what's going on?" Castiel asked.

Dean turned around to face his companion. He looked weary and tired, but as usual his suit was perfectly pressed with the creases in the correct places.

"Not tonight Cas. I know this is the part where I tell you to go screw yourself, you disregard that advice, I tell you to go screw yourself again and you pretend you didn't hear me so you can debrief me on the latest mission to prevent your apocalyptic War of the Worlds. I'm _really_ not in the mood," Dean huffed, meaning the words even more seriously than they sounded.

"I'm here because you called for me Dean," countered Castiel.

"What?" Dean asked in confusion. "Are you saying that I just used my brain as a bat phone? And the only one who can pickup and say 'Yo what's good?'… Is you?"

"I can assure you Dean that I would use the proper greeting of 'hello' instead of such common vernacular," Castiel answered methodically.

"Wow. That is incredible. You actually have a sense of humor. Well you do, but you haven't been made hip to that yet," Dean joked in a dry tone.

"I was under the impression that you could use the company. Seems like you have a lot on your mind," Castiel said after a moment's reflection.

"What is this? Taxi Cab Confessions - Angel edition? C'mon Cas. Are you gunning for the title of Dr. Phil of the heavenly choir? Think of your reputation," Dean teased in a chiding tone.

"I came here as a courtesy visit to you Dean. The last time we met, there was no time for these _pleasantries_, for a leisure conversation between the two of us. I suggest you take advantage of this opportunity. I'm trying to give you, as they say, the_ inside track_. To the best of my abilities of course," Castiel added, not wanting to sound pushy. "I know there are questions you want to ask me about…"

"…Anna," Dean quietly finished.

It was at that moment, Dean suffered a vivid flashback. He remembered the quizzical look upon Castiel's face when he kissed her. Concern was wrought all over the angel's striking features. Honestly, Dean didn't want to know what was on Cas's mind as he watched them. There was something about that look that was so unsettling.

The angel noticed that Dean's face was suddenly filled with disgust. "I can see you don't want to talk about that either. Is there any subject that meets with your approval?" Castiel probed with simple directness.

Dean didn't answer. He laid down on the bed and shut his eyes as if to pretend he was completely alone. "_If only Dad could see me now, chit-chatting with my angel girlfriend about the finer, more awkward topics of life. Like about the time he found out I fucked his former boss mere hours before he was sent to kill her. Strange lives," _he thought.

Castiel noted Dean's reluctance to speak about anything of merit. He got off the bed and made his way over to the nightstand so he could explore the contents of the drawers. "What do you know about the bible Dean? Have you ever heard of the Olivet Discourse?" Castiel queried. A book emerged from the bottom drawer and Dean saw that written in bright gold letters was the title, _The Bible._

Castiel continued by saying, "Laymen call it the _Little Apocalypse. _The passage describes how the son of God warned his followers that they would suffer tribulation and persecution before the ultimate triumph of the Kingdom of God. The beginning of sorrows starts with war, earthquakes, famines and pestilence. This is followed by the appearance of false prophets and apostasy, the abandonment or renunciation of one's religion for unworthy motives. Building upon this misery is the persecution of the followers of Jesus. I mention this to you because I believe this is the part of the prophecy that involves you and your brother."

"You believe?" Dean broke in incredulously.

"Dean they don't tell me everything," Castiel acknowledged. "Some conclusions I have to make by myself through the use of my faith in God. Please let me finish, for I have some advice I wish to impart to you."

Dean felt like he had done himself a disservice in begging Cas to leave his feelings alone. _I think I'll prefer a classic Dean/Castiel argument over a Bible tirade any day of the week,"_ Dean mulled over. But the angel seemed so serene and one hundred percent serious that Dean felt obligated to let him continue.

Castiel paused before starting his recitation:

**---------------------------------**

And Jesus said to them: Watch out that no one deceives you. Many will come in my name, claiming, '_I am he_,' and will deceive many. When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed. Such things must happen, but the end is still to come.

You must be on your guard. On account of me you will stand before governors and kings as witnesses to them. Whenever you are arrested and brought to trial, do not worry beforehand about what to say. Just say whatever is given you at the time, for it is not you speaking, but the Holy Spirit.

Brother will betray brother to death, and a father his child. Children will rebel against their parents and have them put to death. All men will hate you because of me, but he who stands firm to the end will be saved.**

**---------------------------------**

"You are selfish and indulgent. Don't object, we know these both to be true. However, you understand what sacrifice means and how to help others without asking anything in return. You are a walking conundrum Dean Winchester. Your stubbornness and inflexibility has been a true test, a great trial, for us angels, but I've come to think that perhaps this is the work of the Lord; that you may be speaking the voice of the Holy Spirit… Either way be true to yourself and that means being honest with Sam," Castiel concluded.

Dean wasn't exactly sure if he understood Castiel's entire message, but the last part of his speech rang true. As if on cue, he heard the Mustang drive up to the hotel. "_Fabulous timing," _Dean thought.

I know this is yet another battle you aren't ready for. Not today and maybe not tomorrow, but soon you will need to clear the air with him Dean. Sleep well," Castiel promised as he pressed his two fingers to Dean's forehead.

Not in the explaining mood, the angel made sure he disappeared before Sam entered the building. The only evidence of his visit was the Bible he left lying open besides the hunter.

**---------------------------------**

** The full passage is Mark 13:5-13. It's a pretty long passage so I took out the repetitive parts.

Please review! It helps me update more frequently if I think people are waiting :) Okay, that was me being shameless. Thanks for reading!


	6. Ch 6: She Builds Quick Machines

**Isaiah 48:22**

**Disclaimer: Supernatural is owned by Kripke and I imagine some suits down at The CW. All the copyrights associated with Supernatural belong to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.**

**A/N: Takes place directly after Chapter 5, during between Episode 4.10 Heaven And Hell and Episode 4.11 Family Remains. The Flashback takes place during the opening scene of Ep. 3.03 Bad Day At Black Rock.**

**My first fanfic :) This is the part where I say I love reviews, blah blah blah. **

**Special thanks to my beta enviousxbeauty :)**

**Chapter 6: She Builds Quick Machines**

**---------------------------------**

**The pride of thy heart hath deceived thee, **

**Thou that dwells in the clefts of the rock, **

**Whose habitation is high; that says in his heart:**

"_Who shall bring me down to the ground?"_

**Obadiah 1:3**

**---------------------------------**

**Alleyway Behind Tommy B's Diner – 1:00am **

**15 Miles Southwest of North Platte, Nebraska**

"Utah?" Ruby repeated. "_Utah_??? I may not know where Lilith is right now, but I'm pretty damn sure she's not in the boondocks of _Utah_ Sam!"

Sam looked at Ruby with the same contempt an exhausted mother would look at her unruly child. "_Leave it to Ruby to make a scene. A fucking addict for dramatics," _Sam thought snidely. He was afraid that if she carried on this tantrum any longer that someone might wonder what the hell was going on in this back alley. At the moment, all he wanted to do was shut her up.

"I _know_ Lilith isn't in Utah. There's a case in Utah. People dying. Sounds suspiciously _paranormal_. Figured we'd check it out. Because, uh, remind me Ruby… Where is Lilith?" Sam ranted. The way her eyes were shooting daggers, Sam felt that he really understood the phrase, "_If looks could kill_." She turned her back on him as if to leave, but Sam grabbed Ruby by her wrist and threw her against the brick wall.

"Oh, that's right. You don't know! And we don't have any clue how to find her!" Sam spit out. Ruby tried to shove him out of the way, but Sam was quicker and held her in place by both shoulders. A razor-sharp sneer spread across his face. "Wait, it gets better. Once we do find her, what am I supposed to do? Sprinkle some fairy dust, chant a little Latin - and we'll send the bitch back to hell? Cause I'm not drinking the demon blood anymore. So until we find something a little more substantial, I'm just gonna do the job."

He released his grip on her, letting her fall to the ground. It bothered him that he treated her like this occasionally, but it didn't bother him enough to stop. Sam walked a nightmare line with Ruby. Allies by force, regretfully lovers by choice. He hated that he owed his life to her. He hated that after Dean died, all that was left Ruby and that she was the only one who was able to get through to him. He shrugged his shoulders in defeat and started to walk back to the motel.

"Fine. If this is how you want it to be, this is how it's fucking going to be Sam!" Ruby screamed after him. "When you're done wasting your time with this trivial bullshit, you know how to find me. But until you're ready to work, to go after the freakin' source of the **_apocalypse_**, don't bother me."

"If I had known that it was this easy to get rid of you, I would have done this a helluva lot sooner," Sam maintained angrily. But when he looked over his shoulder, he found the alley empty and alone. Sam emerged from the alcove and found the street utterly devoid of people. Parked underneath a broken streetlamp was Ruby's 1970 Mach-1 Mustang. It's a good thing that Sam turned pro at hotwiring years ago at the tender age of eleven. "_Go figure she picks a car that's all flash and no muscle. At least I don't have to walk home." _he admitted begrudgingly.

---------------------------------

_**Flashback**_

_**Early June 2007**_

"Because 'demon', that's why! I mean, the second you find out this Ruby chick is a demon, you go for the holy water. You don't chat!" Dean criticized, simultaneously shaking his head in disgust.

The Impala trudged along the highway at a moderate pace. It had been three weeks since the Devil's Gate opened and outside of the Seven Deadly Sins and the spectacularly creep-tastic changeling children, all was quiet on the western front. Now Dean had to deal with the revelation that their masked avenger was nothing more than a black-eyed skank.

Sam knew she wasn't a hunter from the get-go. Something seemed off. Maybe it was her reluctance to explain herself or her defensive body language, but unfortunately for Sam, he had to push the issue. He desperately wished that he didn't so he could have held onto the brief glimmer of hope she injected into his life, but he had to demand the truth.

Taking a deep breath, Sam tried to remain patient. "No one was chatting, Dean."

Dean glanced over at Sam skeptically. "Oh yeah? Then, why didn't you send her ass back to hell?"

Sam willed himself to keep his constraint. "Because she said she might be able to help us out," he said bitterly.

A snicker escaped Dean's lips, but Sam wasn't really surprised at Dean's reaction. "How? No, really, Sam, how? How could she possibly help us?" Dean continued to prod due to Sam's lack of response.

"She told me she could help you, okay? Help you out of the crossroads deal." Sam admitted.

Dean's lips upturned as a curious smile appeared on his face. He heaved a sigh, running his hand through his hair. Sam thought he looked like the perfect composite of sorrow and futility. "What is wrong with you, huh? She's lying! You've gotta know that, don't you? She knows what your weakness is: it's me. What else did she say? Dude?"

"Nothing," Sam responded. Dean just stared at him. Sam's composure was now nonexistent and he hated that his brother never trusted him.

"Nothing, okay? Look, I'm not an idiot, Dean! I'm not talking about trusting her! I'm talking about using her," Sam confessed, the words exploding from his mouth. "We're at war, right? And we don't know jack about the enemy. We don't know where they are, we don't know what they're doing. Hell, we don't even know what they want. Now, this Ruby girl knows more than we will ever find out on our own. Now, yes, it's a risk. I know that. But we need to take it."

The car was abruptly filled with the interruption of their dad's cell phone and Sam couldn't think of a better time to end the conversation.

**---------------------------------**

The motel was as deserted as the rest of the town. A few cars littered the parking lot and Sam tried not to speculate which ones were probably cheating on their wives or setting up make-shift meth labs. "_Hazards of the job."_ Sam thought crudely. He sat in Ruby's car for a moment debating the likelihood of finding Dean awake. Sam pondered. "_Hopefully she'll come back for the car before he wakes up tomorrow. I really don't wanna hash it out on why my on-again off-again demon lover's car is parked outside."_

The inside of the motel room was dark and if he listened hard enough, he could hear Dean's little snores. Sam quickly changed out of his clothes and fell onto his bed with a quiet thud. He closed his eyes and tried to pretend that his day had been filled with more pleasurable events. He flipped over to set the alarm on the bedside table when he noticed something on Dean's bed. There was just enough light streaming from the bathroom door to illuminate the title: _The Bible._

He wasn't exactly sure why, but for however bad Sam felt before, he felt a million times worse now.


	7. Ch 7: Whatever People Say I Am, I'm Not

**Disclaimer: Supernatural is owned by Kripke and I imagine some suits down at The CW. All the copyrights associated with Supernatural belong to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.**

**A/N: Sorry this took forever. Won't bore you with details, but I wanna continue this story. P.S. I love feedback!  
**

_A/N: Takes place directly after Episode 4.11 Family Remains._

**Isaiah 48:22**

**Chapter 7: Whatever People Say I am, That's What I'm Not**

* * *

**But even if you should suffer for what is right, you are blessed. **

**"Do not fear what they fear; do not be frightened."**

**1 Peter 3:14**

* * *

Dean doesn't really understand the euphemism "_seeing pink elephants_."

The idea that this bar could be filled with floating pink elephants made him laugh out loud. However, he fully respected the concept of beer goggles, largely motivated by a lifetime of first-hand experience. There was many a morning where Dean Winchester had to skulk out of an unfortunate lady's bed at the crack of dawn and wait outside for the dutiful Sammy to pick him up.

He wasn't actually sure why the hell he was thinking about pink elephants. For a fleeting moment, he realized how insanely wrecked he was and theorized that this was just some drunk frat boy tangent, but the rational part of his brain was fading fast. "_I don't know, maybe you saw it on TV Dean. Wait… Does this bar even have a TV?_"

For all he knew, it could have been the name of the drink he'd been knocking back all night. Then it hit him that he was trying to think of anything else (no matter how bizarre or pointless apparently), but how fucked up everything was. He was spread too thin, weighted down by traumatic memories. Plus there was the lack of faith in himself, his own brother and his heavenly "allies." The only thing Dean Winchester seemed to still have faith in was the knowledge that he wasn't making it out of this apocalypse alive.

It used to be that if Dean ever needed a reason to justify all the blood, sweat and tears it cost to make it out of life alive, all he needed to do was think of Sam. He couldn't fathom how things between them got so _wrong_. They had been so close growing up and when Sam left for Stanford, Dean nearly lost it. They were brothers, coworkers and best friends. How the hell was Dean supposed to do the job without him? "But life goes on," he drunkenly grumbled.

It took time, oh man did it take time, but eventually he learned to be okay flying solo. Even still, he couldn't shake the nagging voice in the back of his head that the job never felt as rewarding or enjoyable as it had been with Sam. But duty and a perceived sense of moral obligation trumped personal feelings in the Winchester Survival Guidebook. So the remaining hunter trudged onward.

When Sam finally returned to him after three long years apart, Dean could barely contain his elation. Being with Sam again filled a hole that was so vast he didn't even realize the depth of its chasms until they slowly receded.

And in the end, none of it mattered one bit.

His mother's death had taught him early on that things can't ever go back to the way they were before, but he never imagined that getting Sam back felt worse than when they were apart. The Impala, once filled with laughter and good-natured brotherly teasing, now traveled in perpetual silence… which oddly enough sounds like screaming at the top of your lungs.

And once again, just like before, Dean was the picture of emptiness. The worst part was his understanding that no matter what, he couldn't opt out this time. It was literally a battle to the death and his team wasn't holding any of the cards. In his heart of hearts, he knew that he was destined to die a death befitting the weak and broken man he was. A combination of loneliness and despair radiated off his body in hot waves. That was the first thing the angel noticed as he entered the pub.

Dean was so smashed that he didn't notice Castiel observing the intoxicated hunter from across the bar. The angel watched him intently for a few minutes before making his way through the crowd. Castiel disliked this tavern's atmosphere. The women were scantily dressed with their faces painted like whore Jezebel. The men consumed large quantities of alcohol and tried to engage their female companions with raunchy conversation. As he maneuvered his way towards Dean, he was able to hear snippets of dialogue and for the first time in a long time, he understood why human beings got on Uriel's nerves.

* * *

- _Hey remember when I was telling you about the time pretended to be Spiderman?_-

- _I don't like the rain boots that are all one color. They look like those boots fishermen wear when they're like fishing or whatever_. -

- _Whenever we leave a hotel, I always piss on the wall, not because I'm a rock star, but because I'm a jerk._ -

- _Guys, listen. There's a big difference between Spain and South America. One's in Europe. The other is in poverty._ -

- _God, you better love me back bitch! I'm not demanding. I'm just ridiculous in my defense._ -

* * *

Castiel didn't understand why people used alcohol as a crutch. Surely praying was a more productive method in the quest for personal solace. He hated seeing Dean completely inebriated and not just because it kept him from doing the job... although that was the reason he told himself.

He walked over to the table and took a seat across from the hunter. "Dean. We need to talk."

"We _always_ need to talk," Dean argued. He avoided making eye contact preferring the stare intently at his drink instead.

"This isn't the place. Can we please..." Before he was able to finish his question, Dean cut him off with a curt wave of his hand.

"I must admit, I'm shocked to see you out for a night on the town. Not that I mind your attempts to spice up our marriage seeing as a typical evening with you begins with you tucking me in bed and regaling me with horrifying bedtime stories about the end of the world. You're in luck cause' this time, I want to tell you a story. Once upon a time, in a distant land filled with ray-gun shooting unicorns...." Dean drunkenly trailed off.

Castiel picked up the bottle the half-empty bottle of Jack sitting on the table. "Does this have to do with Sam and Ruby?"

Dean grimaced at the mere mention of her name and snatched the bottle out of Castiel's hands. "She's like the Antichrist… except she complains more." He paused to take a long and healthy swig of sweet, sweet liquor.

Castiel put a hand on Dean's arm forcing him to lower the bottle. "Put down the glass. I am, as they say, cutting you off."

"_Why_ are you here? You hear something juicy via the demon gossip mill? God knows, I love how that shit always turns out. Bloody, of course," Dean muttered underneath his breath. "Look buddy, unless this seal involves porn stars in Vegas being kidnapped by the 'reverse vampires', I just don't care." He buried his face in his hands for what seemed like an eternity. When he finally looked up, Castiel wasn't prepared for the tear-streaked face in front of him or the sound of defeat in charge's voice. "It won't change anything anyway."

Castiel was at a loss for what to do. He had no idea where to even begin on how to fix this, but that did little to curb his desire to help Dean. He decided that being proactive was the best course of action. "Let's go."

Dean was surprised to see that he was now laying down on the hotel bed. The din roar of the bar was replaced with the quiet humming of the refrigerator motor. "How'd you know where I was staying?"

Castiel proceeded to sit on the queen-sized bed next to the young man. "Dean, I always know where you are."

Dean didn't exactly know what to say to that, so he said the first thing that came to his mind: "I'm sorry."

The angel couldn't have predicted this drastic change in direction. "What do you mean?"

"I just know that this sucks for you too. I know you don't wanna do this anymore than I want to. That you're _forced_ to be here. The only people who want to spend time with me on their own volition are nut jobs who lived under power lines when they were little. You and Sam bear the burden of my company simply because there's no other choice. So I'm sorry that you're stuck with the shitty job of hanging out with me. I don't even wanna be around me," Dean admitted softly.

Castiel was troubled by this sudden outburst. It pained him to think that his charge truly believed that Castiel disliked spending time with him. Lately the angel had been toying with the idea that even if he had the option to abandon his post, he wouldn't do it. Castiel wanted Dean to understand that he was in this til the end. "Dean, I'm not here right now because I have to be. I'm here because you needed me. I'm sorry I can't offer you much more then my presence. You do know if I could do more to help, I would. Unfortunately, most matters are out of my control."

Dean cast him skeptical glance. He deemed the angel's demeanor sincere, but honestly, Dean had no idea if the angel was being truthful. Up until this point, Castiel had done little to prove that he cared about Dean's welfare. He thought back to the time when Alistair had Cas in his clutches, reciting a spell to ass-ream him back to heaven. His gut reaction was to stay out of the line of fire, but a voice in Dean's head was screaming, "_Don't you dare hurt him_!"

In spite of his better judgment (not to mention that Alistair scared the holy hell out of him like no other demon), he intervened smacking Alistair upside the head with a lead pipe. Most of all, he couldn't shake the look on Cas's face: that his angel was shocked to see that Dean cared enough about him to step in and help him out. And for whatever reason, just the memory of that look broke Dean's heart in a million pieces.

He meant to say, "_Don't leave," _but "_Please just go_" were the words that rolled out of Dean's tongue.

"Dean." Castiel's voice remained even although his eyes were pleading with Dean to let him stay.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Dean tries to say 'wait' but instead whispers, "Please."

A moment of silence passes before he hears Castiel obediently says, "As you wish."

There was the sound of flapping wings and then, nothing. He was stunned by his own actions and he desperately wished that he was strong enough to call him back. The quiet hush that followed reminded Dean of the calm before the storm… right before all hell breaks loose.


End file.
